


Something hot

by kate_the_reader



Series: The season [22]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: 31 Days of Ineffables Advent Calendar Challenge 2019 (Good Omens), Ficlet, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2019-12-23
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:14:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kate_the_reader/pseuds/kate_the_reader
Summary: Aziraphale knows how treat a cold Crowley
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: The season [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1564690
Comments: 2
Kudos: 35





	Something hot

**Author's Note:**

> Crowley’s attitude to fires is unpacked in [Flames](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/51780619?show_comments=true&view_full_work=false#comment_269255521)

It’s a lot colder out here on the Downs than it is in London.

As the wind howls around the corners of the house, driving the snow to pile up at the windows, Crowley shivers and mutters and retreats to bed.

There’s a fireplace in the sitting room. He knows Aziraphale would like a fire in it, would like to sit in front of dancing flames, cosy in a corner of the sofa with a book and a mug of something hot. He wishes he could want that too, but he can’t, yet.

He can hear Aziraphale pottering around downstairs, humming to himself in the kitchen; listens to the kettle coming to the boil, the click as it turns off, the clink and rattle of tea being made, the sound of Aziraphale’s footsteps on the stairs. He turns over in bed, so he’s facing the door, so he can see Aziraphale’s face as he steps into the bedroom carrying two steaming mugs.

“I brought you something hot,” he says, setting the mugs on the bedside table and sitting on the bed to take off his shoes.

Crowley shifts back, to give Aziraphale room in the bed, and lifts the covers so he can get in. His clothes are cool against Crowley’s bed-warm skin. No matter. Aziraphale settles and reaches for one of the mugs. Crowley props himself on an elbow to take it. The steam tickles his nose with the scent of good tea, and good whisky.

“I added a bit of extra warmth,” says Aziraphale, picking up the other mug.

The tea warms him from the inside, as Aziraphale warms him from the outside.

“Stay here?” he says, when the tea is finished and he slips back under the blankets, pulling them up around his shoulders. 

“Of course,” says Aziraphale, switching on his lamp against the cool, dimming light from the window and picking up his book. 

Crowley keeps his eyes open just enough to see Aziraphale, back lit by the lamp that turns his hair into a halo and spills golden across his skin. He turns a page and stretches his hand out, pushing into Crowley’s hair. Crowley shuffles closer, resting his head against Aziraphale’s thigh and letting his eyes fall shut.

He half wakes when Aziraphale clicks the lamp off and lies down, pulling Crowley into his arms, the wool of his thick cardigan rough-soft under Crowley’s cheek.

“Nicer for you to read in front of a fire,” Crowley says, sleep-slurred.

“Nonsense,” says Aziraphale. “I far prefer it right here.”

Crowley slips back into sleep, the press of Aziraphale’s lips on his forehead the last thing he’s aware of.

_Prompt: warmth_


End file.
